


The Setup

by A_Fine_Piece



Series: A Thin Red Line [49]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Kimono, Plotting, Prostitution, Scheming, conniving, preparations, so much drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece
Summary: [Prior to the beginning of the series] Hisana prepares for a dinner that is sure to be disastrous.  Byakuya finds himself trapped in one of his family's plots.
Relationships: Kuchiki Byakuya/Kuchiki Hisana
Series: A Thin Red Line [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/93946
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	The Setup

Hisana glances down at her stack of love letters. She reads them all. She hates it, though. It makes her feel terrible. How she has misled so many men. When she was younger, she thought it was all part of a _game_. A game that they—the patrons and the courtesans—were all secretly _in_ on.

Boy, was she wrong. _Dead wrong_.

Callous youth. How she wishes she labored under the same stupid _assumption_ now.

“I think you’ll like this one,” Yua murmurs, grinning sweetly over the parchment. 

Hisana’s brows rise at the challenge.

“It’s from Lord Yogi.”

Hisana frowns.

_The Tax Man._

Given the number of letters she has had to write over the course of the last _month_ explaining to her clients that, no, she didn’t declare her heart’s true love during the Celebration of the Arts Festival, she is reluctant to read anything from the _Tax Man_. Mostly because she doesn’t want to deal with the fallout of a spurned lover resurrecting tax legislation that would add to the burden of her debt. She also doesn’t want to deal with the performative hysterics of her Mistress if they had to go back to square one with the Chambers.

Before accepting the letter that Yua proffers with a sweet smile, Hisana arches a brow. “Is he reintroducing the tax measure?” 

Yua laughs and shakes her head. “It’s good news!”

Hisana shoots her child attendant a disbelieving look but takes the letter. The parchment smells like moth-eaten books and old, stale ink, but the script is immaculate. 

_Dearest Hisana:_

_My wife and I want to take the moment to offer our sincerest gratitude. We are currently expecting our first child next spring._

_Thank you for all you have done to help us achieve this moment in our lives. If you require anything at all, we are happy to assist._

_Warmest regards._

“See!” cries Yua in triumph. “It was a good one!”

One less patron, but an ally nonetheless. Hisana will take it. “I’ll write the response to this letter,” she says, flashing a smile.

Yua nods her head and plucks another letter from the stack. “Where are you going tonight?”

Hisana sighs. “Dinner party.” She _hates_ dinner parties, especially when there will be other performers. Wealthy men have a bad habit of pitting female performers against one another, forgetting that the performers usually _didn’t_ sign up for their respective professions. Hisana does not abide it, but sometimes she isn’t given a choice.

“Do you need help preparing?” 

Translation: Yua is _done_ with the cheery letter-writing campaign. 

Hisana smirks. _So is she_. “Yeah. I think we should probably start soon.”

She has no idea how to dress for this event. It’s at Lord Tadahiro’s behest, but he has given her relatively _few_ details. She knows the venue, a private restaurant, and that several highborns—Captains Kuchiki, Kyōraku, and Ukitake, Vice Captain Shiba and Lord Heishi—will be in attendance. Geisha were also commissioned to entertain them with music. Beyond that? Nothing.

 _It feels like a trap_ , especially since Tadahiro has been conspicuously _absent_ from her appointment list for the last few weeks. Had Hisana not been worked to exhaustion, she would have written to him. She should’ve written to him, pledged her undying affection, and promised to never see Byakuya Kuchiki again.

Then, there was the matter of the guest list itself. Both Captains Kyōraku and Ukitake would be easy enough, but Vice Captain Shiba and Lords Kuchiki and Heishi? She can’t help but wonder at what hand Tadahiro is playing.

Crossing her floor to her closet, her heart wavers as she considers the line of kimono. 

She doesn’t know which role to assume tonight. Surely, Tadahiro learned of the dance. What, exactly, he heard, she doesn’t know. The reviews were positive, but her final pose had inspired characterizations that ranged the gamut. Some were convinced that she had declared her love to Lord Byakuya. Others believed that the act was a demonstration of courtly admiration, as he was the highest-ranking unmarried noble male in attendance. Still a few believed she had been pledging her heart to _them_. _Bless their souls_. 

If she knows Tadahiro, he has heard them all, and he believed that she had declared her unwavering affection for Lord Byakuya. Everything she had tried to convince him of at the kimono collection event was for not. Pretty lies spoken from the lips and with the body of a paid entertainer. 

Now, this her punishment: Putting on a performance so well-rehearsed so as to put the minds of three men at ease in one dinner. The lie? She’s just a cynical whore who would gladly lead a naïve little lord along only to sacrifice his heart at the altar of the almighty dollar.

So, she’s the _villain_.

Hisana exhales a long breath and closes her eyes. Quietly she searches for the last decent thing she did, and she turns up wanting. Maybe she’s never been decent. Ruthless pragmatism doesn’t deal in decency, not when the basics of survival are luxuries. 

Her thoughts centers on a word. Its characters sear their way into her mind’s eye. _Ruthless_. She has never thought of herself in such terms, but she imagines there is strength in playing the vixen, the femme fatale, the anti-hero.

If Tadahiro is going to make her the bad guy, then so be it. He gets what he pays for. She’ll play the role with gusto. 

Her hand stops at a lovely raven and scarlet kimono. It’s extravagant with maple trees in full autumn attire. Hints of ivory and red scatter among a sea of inky black. If there was a kimono made for a ruthless bitch, this was it.

The red cherry blossom kanzashi that Lord Kuchiki gifted her would go well with the kimono, but, alas, it went missing on the night of the dance. The box containing the cherry blossom kimono did not hold _any_ of her hairpins; the cost of the pins quickly made it onto her ledger. Fortunately, the House was unaware of Byakuya’s gift; otherwise, she would be paying off her debt three lifetimes over.

Instead, Hisana chooses a lovely vermillion spider lily pin, which had been the first kanzashi that she purchased for herself. If it went missing, then, oh, well. The House couldn’t claim it at least.

“Ready?” calls Yua from behind Hisana. 

Hisana turns to find Yua’s little fingers busy setting out the oils, brushes, inks, rouges, and powders for Hisana’s makeup and hair. War paint and more armor. 

“As I’ll ever be.”

It doesn’t take long to dress. Hisana instructs Yua to let the collar drape low and looser. She wants to be seen, draw the male gaze close and downward, make them imagine the skin and heat beneath the silk. This decision necessitates that pale powder be used to lighten her skin from her hairline to her neck and clavicle. Charcoal darkens her brows, and rouge turns her lips a dark shade of scarlet. Her hair is a complicated design of knotted buns.

The resulting look satisfies Hisana. She appears impenetrable in her femininity, but there is something calculated about her sexuality. Just _enough_ calculation, to set the men on edge. 

The black-lacquer fan she selects has beautiful gold and red leaves. Leaves that she flashes for a moment, observing the fan’s movement, before twirling it between her fingers. It’s light, appropriately flirty, and yields well to her hand. A perfect distraction in case Tadahiro gets handsy.

“Is everything alright, Sister?” Yua’s timid voice retreats to a higher octave.

Hisana glances up at the girl, offering her a gentle smile. “Why do you ask that?”

“It’s just,” mumbles Yua, “you don’t look yourself.”

Hisana stares at her reflection in the small mirror. No, she does not look herself. She looks like she’s ready to cause a riot. And, that’s exactly the point.

A knock on the door sends Hisana to her feet. When she draws the door open, she is expecting to find Shunsho wearing an impatient expression and chastising her for being late. 

_But_ , she isn’t late.

And, who she finds at the door isn’t Shunsho.

“Captain Kyōraku,” the name nearly tears down her throat on the inhale. He was definitely not on her schedule for the day. She would’ve have noticed that name.

He flashes her a charming smile and wags his thick brown brows. “No need to worry after me, I come bearing gifts.” He produces a thin, long box with a turquoise ribbon wrapped around it.

Hisana shoots him a skeptical glance before taking the box in her hands. The packaging is slick, and its weight is light. She tugs at one of the tails of the bow, unraveling the knot. She then slides the top of the box off. At the reveal, her breath hitches, catching cold in her throat. 

It’s the red kanzashi that Byakuya had given her.

Her eyes go wide, and she takes a small step back, retracting away from Captain Kyōraku, like he has caught the plague. “How?” She searches him, not understanding how he found the pin and then determined it was she who owned it.

Captain Kyōraku chuckles at her confusion. “I found it the night of the Celebration of the Arts. I recognized it as belonging to the late Lady Kuchiki and then Sōjun Kuchiki’s wife after that, which seemed very odd, especially since neither Lady Heishi nor any of the Kuchiki ladies would be caught dead in the backstage of a kabuki theater. Then, I remembered you and your dance.” 

He eyes her slyly. “By your expression, I take it my hunch isn’t wrong.”

Her face deflates. She had no idea that Byakuya had given her a proper family _heirloom_. How many people must have seen her wearing it at the kimono exhibit? Was that how Tadahiro _knew_ of her connection to Byakuya; how he came to the assumption that they were intimate? 

“Is it that obvious?” 

Captain Kyōraku gives Hisana a charitable, almost pitying, look. “I doubt many people will recognize the hairpin, but as I have a fondness of them,” he says and turns his head slightly to the side to flash his exorbitantly expensive pins, “I noticed, and some of the main families who are associated with the Kuchiki may assume,” he pauses thoughtfully, “that Byakuya isn’t serious about his current match.”

Hisana’s features sharpen. Why must every _damned gift_ be a ticking timebomb? Is it so hard to buy her a meaningless trinket from a kiosk that she can wear without starting a whisper war?

“I’ll return the heirloom to Lord Kuchiki tonight, then,” says Hisana, stuffing the box into a hidden pocket in her sleeve. She _should_ be leaving the kanzashi in her room. Safe and hidden, where no one could ever find it. She also knows she _should_ be doing this, but she can’t. 

She convinces herself that returning the heirloom to Lord Ginrei Kuchiki would be practical, a show of good faith, to demonstrate to him that she has no intention of interfering in their clan affairs. 

What really drives her to tuck the box close to her skin, however, isn’t that.

She wants it to accompany her to this dinner, to bring her strength, and then, she will let it go. She also knows this about herself, too. 

Captain Kyōraku watches her movements carefully, but he does not give any indication as to whether he agrees with her decision. “Mind the company?” he cocks a brow, a half-grin pulling his lips lopsided.

Hisana pauses for a moment. While Captain Kyōraku plays the affable drunkard with panache, she doesn’t for a moment think that his offer signals genuine camaraderie. Is the situation worse than she suspected at first blush?

“I could think of no better escort,” she says darkly, before threading her arm through his.

This much is true. Captain Kyōraku isn’t one to be trifled with without a good reason and painstaking planning.

When they reach the restaurant, they are stopped short of the door by Captain Isshin Shiba. Who seemingly manifested from thin air. Flailing an arm over his head, he rushes to Captain Kyōraku’s side. “What are you doing here?” he asks, words quick, voice resonating with something akin to the sound of _guilt._

They are in the Pleasure Quarters, after all. Maybe Captain Shiba wasn’t expecting to be seen, doing whatever it is he was doing there. Hisana quirks a brow, craning her head to get a better look at the Shiba lord.

Like the clan head, Kaien Shiba, Hisana has only crossed paths with Isshin Shiba superficially. Seen him in crowds. Heard rumors that his clan resides in the Rukon districts. Of the five noble families, the Shiba don’t frequent the establishments in the Pleasure Quarters, so she knows the least about them. Reputedly, their ethics are different than that of the other high noble houses. They are beloved by commoners. Lords and ladies of _the people_. 

Hisana is suspicious, finding it is strange to see Isshin Shiba here and now, brandishing a weak grin and a shaky eagerness.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

“—c’mon, whaddya think?” he asks, eyes boring into Captain Kyōraku. “Kaien couldn’t make it. You think Tadahiro’ll let me take his place?”

Captain Kyōraku glances askance at Hisana. It’s a permissive gesture, but the coolness of his demeanor is meant to convince her to consent. She, however, is the lesser of the obstacles that face entry into the party tonight. Tadahiro can be rigid about engagements. Who sits where. Who sings which song. Which dance is performed and the style of the performance, down to the prop employed. 

“You said you had a flair for the dramatic?” Hisana murmurs, lifting a brow. 

Captain Kyōraku answers her challenge with a smirking grin.

With his consent, Hisana then glances sidelong at Captain Shiba, who cocks a brow and replies, “I _love_ drama.” 

* * *

Byakuya stands an arm’s length away from Ukitake. The restaurant is mostly quiet. There are two large parties occupying the grand banquet halls. A cheap-looking fountain trickles near the vestibule. The rocks aren’t natural; they’re plastic. The small replica of the temple that sits atop the plastic rock _stream_ is also badly painted.

Such is life in the Floating World. Its entertainment offerings best the performers in Seireitei due to the obscenity laws imposed in the city, but all else—food, décor, _ambiance_ —pale in comparison. 

Which forces Byakuya to consider _why_ , _precisely_ , he has been summoned to this engagement in lieu of his grandfather. Why would his honorable grandfather even accept such invitation? The talents of a few geisha likely do not outweigh the quality of all else the restaurant offers. Unless there is more to this dinner. Always a possibility given his family’s penchant for calculation.

Konoe, Ukitake, and Heishi are speaking quietly while they wait for the remaining members of the party. Byakuya only half-listens to their conversation, partly because neither he nor Konoe can barely look the other in the eye. Byakuya isn’t sure who is at fault for the current ill-will, or when their mutual ambivalence toward each other turned bitter.

He believes it was sometime last spring that their, admittedly, _thinly veiled_ civility spoiled. Byakuya can only guess at the source. A thwarted investment? Failure for the houses to find agreement on some legislative initiative? He isn’t certain.

“Byakuya,” says Ukitake, bringing him into the conversation. “Tell us more about your betrothal. I don’t believe I’ve met her yet.”

Byakuya’s face goes as blank as a slate. “Suiko Heishi,” he murmurs quietly, careful not to offend Lord Heishi, her father.

“I met her at the Celebration of the Arts, at the collection,” says Konoe, warmly, “she is a lovely lady.”

“Why thank you, Tadahiro,” says Heishi, who gives a small bow of his head.

Ukitake nods approvingly. “That sounds very exciting. We are rarely treated to a wedding of one of the Five Noble Houses, and to have two in such quick succession . . . how fortuitous!”

Byakuya does not reciprocate the Captain’s enthusiasm. Instead, his attention trails to the door.

“Yes, how are Kaien and Miyako faring in their plans?” asks Konoe.

“Very well, I believe. They are well-suited to one another.”

“Byakuya and Suiko appear to be a very handsome match, if I do say so myself.” There is an edge to Konoe’s voice and a sharp gleam flashing in his eyes that do not go unnoticed by Byakuya.

Realization, however, strikes Byakuya too late. The reason why he is here – why his grandfather sent him in his stead – walks through the door dressed daringly in dark silks. She greets the room with a winning smile, wearing Shunsui Kyōraku and Isshin Shiba on each arm as if they are part of her ensemble.

 _Hisana_ ….


End file.
